


I’m Not Ready

by seizethosegays



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Blood, Death, Guns, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 03:42:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18307472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seizethosegays/pseuds/seizethosegays
Summary: Race isn’t ready to go





	I’m Not Ready

Albert and Race lead dangerous lives. They worked for the government, along with a few of their friends. Its classified. Technically the writer isn’t supposed to tell you about this but anything for the writing, y’know?

The two almost got killed at least once a month. But it pays well so… near death it is. It was peaceful for the most part. But… not all the time. 

Early Friday morning, Albert got up to go get groceries. Their friends were coming over for dinner and a movie. He rolled over and woke Race up, kissing his cheek and covering him back up as he left. Race was left alone, sleeping peacefully. He was in such a deep sleep that he didn’t notice people coming into his house. 

He woke up when he hit the floor… hard. His head throbbed and so did his arms. Attempting to open his mouth, he moved his hands to get himself up. They had been zip tied together and he had been gagged. Huffing, he put his head down and braced himself for a long ride. 

Muffled voices, a bit of yelling, and metal door unlocking later and Race sighed, squinting at the bright light and the two burly men staring at him. Russian accents, black shirts, black sunglasses. Race reached up and took the duct tape off his mouth. 

“No offense, but you two look like bad action movie villains,” Race tilted his head to the side. One of em held their hand up to punch him, but the other stopped him. The two grabbed his feet and pulled him to the edge. His feet weren’t bound together. Bad decision. “Hey, if you’re planning to bring me to your ‘secret lair’, blindfold me. When I get out you don’t want me knowin where to go.” 

They looked at each other, looked a Race, then at each other. They took his advice, covering his eyes with a bandana. Race was patient, wanting to know what they wanted. They were confused why he wasn’t doing anything. Race was just tired. And a bit cranky. He just woke up and didn’t get his coffee. 

When they took the bandana off, Race was handcuffed to a metal chair, another chair in front of him. 

“Usually I’m the one doing the interrogations,” he murmured. “Hey, this chairs cold can I get another one?” One of the men kicked at his ankles. “Wow, rude.” They left the room and Race sad in silence, waiting for their boss… or whoever was coming to interrogate him. 

After what seemed like hours, the door finally opened. A man in a suit, neat brown hair and chocolate brown eyes sat down in front of him, a pen and notepad in hand. 

“Antonio Matteo Higgins,” the man read from his paper, and Race rolled his eyes. “Tell me about mission 7837. You were there that night with a man named Albert DaSilva-“

“My boyfriend,” Race cut him off. The mans demeanor changed and Race scoffed. “You’re homophobic, aren’t you?”

“No, just caught off guard,” the mad shrugged, “I think it’s great you found someone. How is he?”

“I’m so glad you’re a decent human being,” the blonde smiled a bit, “but I’m pretty sure you have a deadline. Continue.”

“Oh yeah. That night you and Albert DaSilva broke into a Slovakian military base, stealing the plans and blueprints for a nuclear weapon and plans to attack. I want to know what you saw and what the plans are.” 

“I can’t tell ya that,” Race smiled. 

“And why not?”

“I’d have to kill ya.” 

“You do know what comes next, right?” He asked, shifting in his seat. 

“Yeah yeah bring it on,” Race didn’t care. He’d heard every threat before. When the man was done with his threat, Race nodded and smiled. “Nicely done, nicely done.”

“Thank you, it’s my second day,” he smiled sheepishly. 

“You’re doing very good for a rookie. You’ll get promoted soon, I can tell.”

“I’m trying to be intimidating but you don’t seem-“

“I’ve been doing this since I was 17, I’ve heard it all,” Race nodded as if to confirm his fact. “Still can’t tell ya, though.”

“You know what’s comin next?”

“Yep.” And then the man left, then the two from before entered. Race smiled a greeting and tried to wave at them, the handcuffs not letting him move much. One of the men worked at uncuffing him and the other held him still. 

“Hey anyone know what time it is? I wanna know my time of death,” Race glances up at the man holding him, who checked his watch. 

“11:27,” then the man grabbed his shirt collar and roughly led him out of the room. 11:27, that’s perfect, Albert was already home and knew he wasn’t there. 

They tossed him into a small room and handcuffed him to the wall, turning on a bright light. One of the men left, and the other cracked his knuckles. 

“Looks like you already have a few bruises,” the Russian accent was thick and Race didn’t care for it. “Someone get to you before we did? You look too comfortable in those handcuffs, this happen often?”

“I mean,” Race laughed a bit, “usually when I’m in handcuffs it’s consensual and one hell of a night.” Race winked at him, being his usual cocky self. “And last night was absolutely wonderful. ‘M still sore.” Race could practically see the steam coming from the mans ears. Race braced himself, he knew what came next. 

His fist connected with his jaw, and Race winced, “ey, that ain’t fair you got brass knuckles!!” The man did it again, uncaring. Stomach, ribs, jaw, cheekbones, arms, neck, pretty much ever lethal place ached with every hit every kick. After the man calmed down, he pulled out a pocket knife. He wasn’t gonna kill Race, they needed him alive. 

With an evil glint in his eyes, the man placed the tip of the knife against Race’s chest. 

“Aw come on don’t do- you son of a bitch!!” Race yelped, instinctively kicking at the man. Hot blood trickled down his chest. The man did it again, and again, and again, each time he cut deeper and deeper. Race grew light headed, his voice hoarse and his throat scratchy from screaming out. Tears stained his cheeks. 

Then he left. Race was alone in a dark room. He grew more drowsy and nauseous by the minute. He knew he shouldn’t fall asleep, he really did. But every time he blinked his eyes stayed closed a little longer. He just hoped Albert found him soon. 

He heard it before he saw it. Gunshots, then the door opened. Race tried to kick whoever was coming after him, but the blood loss was almost fatal. 

“It’s me, love,” the familiar voice of his boyfriend filled his ears and he smiled a bit. 

“Can we go home now?” Race looked up at his redheaded boyfriend. He noticed the tears running down his boyfriend’s cheeks and the dirt and grim he was covered in. He knew why Albert was crying. Race wasn’t gonna make it home. And Race knew that. 

“Yeah, Race,” Albert picked Race up. “Let’s go home. It’s gonna be alright. You’re gonna be okay. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have left you home, I-“

“It’s not your fault, love, you-“ Race coughed, rather violently, “-you didn’t know. I wanna walk.” Albert sat Race on his feet, putting an arm around his shoulders to keep him up right. Race dragged his feet. He wasn’t gonna make it. And they both knew it. 

“Hey Al?” Race stopped him in the middle of the street. The redhead looked at him. “Tell the guys I love em. Hey, Albert- Albert look at me -my drawer at home. The one in the nightstand. There’s something in there for you. I love you, Albert DaSilva. Never forget that. You’re my everything. I love you.”

“Race, what-“ Albert was cut off by a gunshot ringing in his ears. Race clenched his stomach, looked at Albert, and dropped to his knees. “Race. Race no. No no no no no, Race come on.” Albert sat down and picked Race up, holding him in his lap. 

“I love you,” Race smiled, choking back tears. “Albert, I love you so much.”

“I love you so much, Antonio,” Albert was sobbing, holding onto Race for dear life. His hands were getting colder. The feeling in his body leaving him. He could, however, feel Albert pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re gonna be okay. God, I’m so sorry, Race.” 

“It’s not your fault, love, you didn’t know. You didn’t know,” Race grabbed the boy’s hand with what little strength he had left. Albert looked up across the street. A man in a suit held a gun at his side. Albert reached for his, but Race stopped him. “Stay with me, until I fall asleep. Stay with me. I’m not ready- I’m not ready to go.”

“Help is coming, Race, hold on. Please,” Albert sobbed, pressing his forehead against Race’s. “I need you. I swear, Race, I’ll kill them all, I swear I’ll-“

“It’s not your fault. Just stay with me,” his voice got quieter by the second. “Stay with… me until I fall asleep, stay with me…” His world started to go black. The beautiful voice of his boyfriend got fainter and fainter. God, he was gonna miss that soothing voice reading him to sleep at night and comforting him when he panicked. He was gonna miss those strong arms hugging him. He was gonna miss movie nights with him and playing in rain puddles and buyin ridiculous stuff at the store. He was gonna miss Albert. He was gonna miss the love of his life. 

He knew it was his time. Closing his eyes, he squeezed Albert’s hand, “I love you, Red. I love you.”

Albert sat with him in the middle of the street, holding onto him and hoping help would come soon. It wouldn’t do any good. They took him to the hospital but the blonde couldn’t be saved. He was gone. 

Albert sat in their queen sized bed alone, holding a ring in his hands. Race’s ring. The one Race bought for him. A small black box sat in his lap, with a note that had been folded just moments prior. 

“Albert, I love you with everything I have. I’d take a bullet for you (I already have but y’know). You’re the love of my life. I can’t imagine life without you.

-Race”

Albert felt nothing anymore. Race was gone. He wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t bring him back. The redhead hung his head and cried, his tears staining the mattress. The love of his life was gone. They’d be together again soon. He needed to be with Race. They’d be together again.


End file.
